


Heaven help me, I need to make it right

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes Returns, M/M, Steve Rogers Feels, Stucky - Freeform, angst beginning + fluff ending, post winter soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 01:24:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4809602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes is not good with expressing his feelings. He excels at covering them with humor or turning the other way but on a cold night in 1944 he pens them and stuffs the letter into his jacket. He doesn't imagine that Steve will ever read them. </p><p>It is 2014 when Steve Rogers finds out how his best friend loved him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven help me, I need to make it right

_You are the hole in my head_  
_You are the space in my bed_  
_You are the silence in between_  
_What I thought and what I said_

 _You are the night time fear_  
_You are the morning when it's clear_  
_When it's over you're the start_  
_You're my head, you're my heart_

[[listen] _  
_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HGH-4jQZRcc)

**Winter 1944**

S,  
I've never been good at sharing, this is not a secret. Our whole lives I've hoarded you away because you were a tiny piece of treasure carved out just for me and me alone and I'm sorry for that but I need you. I always have, probably more than you need me. When we were fourteen and Debra Connor took an interest in you, and I'm ashamed of myself for this, I told her you didn't like dancing and never had. It wasn't that she didn't like you or the other girls too - it's that I'm too goddamn selfish when it comes to you. I lied when I said I only told that dame the good stuff about you. I hated myself for wanting you. Hated myself even more for hurting you but that's all I ever have to offer isn't it? If you ever found out; if I ever told you how fucking much you mean to me you'd never leave me because that's the kind of guy you are. I'm greedy but not that greedy.

  
I've spent more than half of my life protecting you and keeping you safe and you always assumed it was because of friendship but I don't know of another friend who would choose to bloody his own knuckles every week and sit by your bedside when you're hacking up a lung without sleeping for days on end. Its always been more than that, hasn't it? And we've known. We've always known but it was too easy to swallow the words and pretend they didn't exist; to drag you along on another double date that you'd ignore just so I could see your face because I couldn't go a damn day without it. Guess I'm weak like that but you always were my Achilles heel.

  
I didn't want to leave you when it came time to ship out; it tore me up inside; the thought of leaving you behind but the thought of coming home to you pushed me forward and made me fight to stay alive because God, you've no idea how many times I wanted to die from the cold and the torture. Your face kept me anchored and when I thought it was all over? I was grateful because your face was the last thing I'd ever see. That wasn't the end to our story though. You saved me like you've been saving me our entire lives. It wasn't the other way around. I've always loved life and that's no lie but _you_ gave it a purpose, you gave it a face and a name.

  
I thought I had a second chance when you rescued me and you touched me like you loved me; like you rushed in for _my_ sake alone but then it all came tumbling down. Every carefully placed brick around my heart...you were no longer mine alone. While I was gone and clinging to a picture in my head of a skinny kid with messy blonde bangs and eyes the color of the sky, you were falling in love and it's okay. Really it is. She's stubborn and perfectly willing to fight for you, if I were to hand pick a woman for you it'd be her because you deserve the very best. I let you think that I didn't notice her picture in your compass, that it didn't make me want to cry but I did. I waited until everyone was sleeping (except for Morita because he had watch but he minds his own business) and I fucking sobbed.

  
That night at the bar, she made a comment about waiting for the right partner and I got the idea that she meant more than dancing  & it cut me like a knife because for me? You were my right partner. I tried to throw myself into a serious relationship once, remember? Lasted two weeks and she didn't care for you. I couldn't be with someone like that and even still, she wasn't you. I told you I broke it off with her instead of the other way around and you bought my lie because why wouldn't you? You believed me every single time I told you I was choosing to stay home because my date was sick or it looked like it might rain. I was a dirty liar, still am. Remember how I begged you to move in with me and I wrapped it with a pretty bow of 'All you'll have to do is take out the trash and maybe shine my shoes'? It wasn't 'cause the apartment needed cleaning or because I felt sorry for you. It's 'cause I worried about you so much that I could hardly breathe at night and the thought of seeing your bedhead in the morning at _our_ place was everything.  I would've dropped down on my knees and pleaded if that's what it would've taken.

  
And now? I can't even deny to  myself though how much having you by my side means to me even as explosions go off all around us and we could die at any minute. I'd die with a damn smile on my face like an idiot because I got to spend those last days with you. I don't mind the bitter cold or the wind biting my skin through my jacket or even sleeping on the hard ground because I have you and that's always been enough. Ever notice how the other men don't make a peep about the two of us wandering off or coming together like two magnets? That's 'cause they know. I told Dugan and Gabe all about you when I thought you were safe back home and I guess word gets around. Everyone had stories about their girls back home and me? You were _it_ for me. I brushed it off as having no steady dame at home and they bought it 'till you came along and I noticed how they'd drift away from us without saying a word or they'd stand in front of us so I could stay at your side. If you ever noticed you didn't say a thing.

  
You don't make it easy on me, you know that? I've got you memorized like the back of my hand and I can tell whenever your breath hitches - that it means you're nervous or scared. Or when the skin between your eyes crinkles - that means you're worried. Or when you go silent and look down at your lap - that means you're blushing. I like that one the best and before Carter showed up I was the reason for it, for one brief and shining moment. I learn to live with it and knowing that for as long as I live there will never be another you; that I gave you a vow what feels like ages ago - that I gave you everything I had and I'd do it again.

  
I used to think you didn't need me anymore, now that you had this brand new life and body but you proved me wrong. You refused to leave my side for the first few days and chose me over Carter and I've never felt so fucking lucky in my entire life. Never wanted you to see me like that though, coming apart at the seams and staying awake nearly all hours of the night but you didn't flinch. You said I'd do the same if the situation were reversed and I can't argue with that.

  
That night at the bar you looked at me with stars in your eyes and I swear to God I had to get drunk just to forget 'cause she looked at you in the  same way and it wasn't exactly one sided. When she left you said something that hit me like a ton of bricks and I stood there gaping like a fish. Do you remember what it was? You put a hand on my shoulder and said ' _Don't take it so hard, maybe she has a friend_.' I used to tell _you_ that. I knew it then; you _had_ wanted me at some point and it rocked me to my core. And when Carter left? You shoulda followed her but you didn't - you stayed with me. I even told you to get lost a few times after I had too much to drink but you told me that _someone_ had to keep me from falling off of my stool. My head was fuzzy and I couldn't stop...thinking about how we used to be and how you used to look at me like I was some gorgeous dame and you saw everything that night; I know you did. I wanted to drag you into the closest room and kiss you senseless but I didn't. I wish I had. Its been months since then and I still replay it in my head. I find myself staring at you sometimes; trying to mesh the present with the past and wondering if you still feel that way but you always catch me and I don't even bother to look away anymore. A part of me needs you to know 'cause everyone else sees it but you and it hurts. She may be your compass and everything you've ever dreamed of but you... _you_ are my goddamn compass but I got piss poor timing I guess.

  
Well darling, at least we tried.  Sorry that it wasn't good enough.  
Consider this my parting confession. If I die tomorrow, I'm leaving it in my jacket pocket so that when they find my dogtags they'll find all the things I was too afraid to say out loud and you'll know.  
With you 'till the end of the line,  
     B

  
  
**************

 **2014**  
  
It is 2014 when Steve Rogers learns the truth about his best friend.

Steve thumbs through the worn folder once more with The Asset where Bucky's name should be. By now he has memorized every sickening file, every photograph of Bucky in various stages of torture and though it has been two years, he still retches after. The one file that brings him to his knees every time is the first and final letter Bucky had ever written to him. It never fails to make his heart break all over again & causes him to put his head in his hands and sob. It's a photocopy of the original and the familiar scrawl makes Steve homesick. Not for Brooklyn but for a boy who had to grow up too fast; who loved his best friend more than he loved himself; for baby blues and a tuft of brunette hair falling over his forehead. Searching for Bucky has consumed his life and he's okay with that because honestly, he hadn't been living. Not really.

Sam knocking on his hotel door knocks him out of his reverie. He carefully replaces the photocopied letter in the manila folder and puts it on his pillow. Sam has not saw the entire thing; only the parts that Steve feels right sharing. This is his and Bucky's history and theirs alone. He does not know about the letter and how Steve could recite it by heart, every broken word. 

He swipes at his face, rubs his nose and stares at the floor when he opens the door. It's unusual for him to appear timid these days but he has dropped the facade since finding out Bucky was indeed alive and Sam hasn't said a word about it. 

"We got a lead. You ready?" 

_I'm always ready._

"Yeah just give me a moment."

"I'll be outside the door when you're ready."

Steve takes the folder and his few pieces of clothing and wraps them up in a tight ball that he tucks under his arm. They go everywhere with him.

"Lets go."

Washington D.C. was the last place he expected to actually locate Bucky. Apparently he hadn't strayed from the area since they last saw one another over two years ago and his fist had collided with Steve's face. And yet here they were in a dingy building with Bucky huddled over a chair, looking utterly defeated.

"Buck...you know me." 

This was not a question - he _had_ to. Steve simply couldn't accept the opposite, wouldn't be able to live with it.

"Your mom's name is Sarah....," Bucky rasped, "You used to put newspaper in your shoes."

Steve's heart hit the floor and his face crumbled; he curled his hands into fists to resist the urge to hold Bucky and never let him go. Before the war Bucky had always been physically affectionate whether it be throwing an arm over his bony shoulders, squeezing his shoulder entirely too hard when he really meant what he was saying or all but caressing Steve with his eyes in an empty alley. After the war he'd knock his shoulder against Steve's and whisper - refused to leave his side, as always, and god they'd held onto one another _so_ tight when he thought they were going to die in that Hydra facility but it wasn't the same. There was a rift there that hadn't been there before. The letter spelled out what he always suspected but convinced himself the opposite of.

_Yes. You loved her like she was your own mother and you never once judged me for wearing hand me down clothes that were too formal and loose around the waist._

"Yes," he confirmed.

Sam stood silent at his side, eyes darting between the two of them as if he was interrupting a personal moment but didn't feel safe leaving them alone together.

"Do you...do you know my name?," Steve stammered.

"Steve."

_Don't cry, don't cry. Don't you fucking cry, for once he needs **you** to be the strong one. He's counting on you. _

"That's right."

"I don't remember him, should I?," Bucky eyed Sam and did his best to concentrate.

Sam smirked and raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

"You've only met him once before."

_When you tried to kill him but it's okay. They made you do that & I can see why. If you didn't find your target they....don't think about it. DON'T._

"Sam Wilson," Sam extended a hand and Bucky stared at it for a moment before shaking as if he couldn't remember basic formalities.

Bucky nodded, did not say his own name.

"It's okay. I know who you are. I've...we've," Sam gestured to Steve and then himself, "been searching for you for awhile now."

"I know."

Steve couldn't breathe, the room was suddenly smaller than it had been before - _You...ran from **me**?  _ He appeared calm on the outside but inside he was falling apart.

Sam picked up where he couldn't. "You knew?"

"I couldn't lead Hydra to Steve," Bucky stated and straightened his back.

His hair was as long as it had been when Steve had saw him last and his red henley was stained but he was everything Steve had _always_ wanted.

Sam nodded and turned to Steve who was taking deep breaths in and out. He did not have to even ask what was going on. If this were Riley he'd be an absolute wreck.

"Do you...do you know who you are?," Steve asked. It was a small and desperate plea from a man at the end of his rope.

_Please say yes._

"James Buchanan Barnes."

_Bucky._

"Yes."

Sam gestured in Steve's direction, casual as could be - "He calls you Bucky."

Bucky's eyes flickered to Steve's and Steve forced himself to look away.

_I can't **do** this. _

"I remember."

Steve could not speak. Over seventy two years later and his verbal abilities were sadly lacking - at least that hadn't changed though he wished it had of. Sure he could make a snappy comeback as well as the next man or skirt around a question like it was his job but Bucky Barnes had been rendering him speechless their entire life, save for arguments here and there when he refused to back down.

Bucky stood then and Steve froze up - his heart hammering in his chest and feeling like it was 1944 all over again with Bucky staring at him on the mountaintop and wishing there was more time to figure out what it meant. Slowly he walked toward Steve as if he had no right to even think about touching him and paused when they were face to face with enough room between them to be comfortable if that's what you could call this.

Sam turned his back and wandered off to another room, allowing them the privacy that they'd never had during the war.

Steve's eyes were misty with tears and Bucky appeared blurry before him but he was the most beautiful sight, scruffy face and unwashed hair included.

"Can I...?," Steve faltered and the words were quiet enough that he was sure Bucky didn't hear them.

He did.

He nodded and time slowed around them as Steve hugged Bucky as hard as he could, apologizing under his breath the entire time. Bucky did not react at first as if he hadn't been hugged in ages and maybe he hadn't.

_Touch me._

As if hearing the unspoken plea, Bucky untangled his arms from where Steve had them pinned down and wrapped them around Steve's waist.

Steve held on for as long as he could and breathed him in.

_This. This is all I've ever wanted in life. YOU._

He didn't mean to and he hadn't cried since losing Bucky back in '44, not even when the jet he was in collided with the ice, but now the tears dampened Bucky's shoulder and he gently stroked Steve's hair as if it were second nature - the same way he'd spent many a night doing when Steve was sick.

"I'm sorry God I'm so sorry Buck, you know I wouldn't have left if I'd thought....," Steve sobbed and his entire body shook under Bucky's palms.

Bucky gripped him tighter, one metal hand curling around his waist and the other running through his hair.

"You didn't know."

"I should've though....I _should've_."

_I should've felt something but I didn't. I felt nothing but pure raw anger at Hydra for taking you from me._

Steve thought back to the letter; carefully folded in his pocket and wanted so badly to show it to Bucky but it was best not to rush it.

"I missed you," he murmured against Bucky's shirt.

He was taken aback when Bucky replied - "Missed you too."

_Thought I'd never hear those words. Thought I'd never hear your voice again._

Steve forced himself to pull back, wiping his eyes as he did and putting distance between them because dammit he'd fallen apart when he'd told himself he wouldn't. 

"I thought you were dead," he said, matter-of-factly. 

Bucky smirked and shook his head, stared down at the floor. "Kinda was." 

_What do I say to that? Sorry for leaving you for dead for over 70 years and killing myself in the process?  
_

Sam scuffed his feet along the floor as he entered just in case he interrupted something. He took in Bucky's slumped shoulders and Steve's tear streaked cheeks; wasn't sure where he belonged in this scenario.

"We should go," Sam said calmly.

"Sam's got a safe place that no one knows about. Will you....come with us?"

_Not without you._

Bucky hesitated for the slightest - gauging whether Sam was a threat or a friendly.

"You can trust him," Steve confirmed; they did not need to say the words out loud. They'd always had an unspoken bond like that.

Bucky nodded and followed them out to the vehicle, chose the backseat & Steve wanted to squeeze back there with him but he had to react like a responsible adult would, rather than the high strung 19 year old Bucky had left behind when the war started.

The ride took three hours and Bucky sat with back rigid and wide awake the entire time. Steve kept glancing at him in the rearview mirror as if he might disappear.

"This is it," Sam announced as they drove up to a homey looking house with paint chipping on the side and flower pots on the porch. It sat on at least three acres of land with trees and bright green grass dotted with dandelions. It was not the city, that was for sure.

Bucky eyed the place suspiciously and deeming it safe, he got out and stretched his legs.

_Don't stare at him. Jesus you spent half your life doing that & he'd probably appreciate it if you didn't. _

Sam pushed a key into the lock and the door creaked to life to reveal wood paneling on the walls, a couch and loveseat from at least the mid '80s with dark brown and beige patterning on it, an outdated television set, framed pictures of Sam in various stages of his life, threadbare carpeting that nearly matched the couch and a rustic kitchen with the basic amenities. 

"What? It was my mothers house," Sam said defensively though no one had said a thing.

Steve held his hands up - "I didn't say anything."

Behind him, Bucky shrugged.

_Isn't it funny how I can still sense your presence even when we're not standing close? Always has been that way._

"We'll be crashing here for as long as we have to unless you two object?," Sam asked with an attitude. Clearly he was tired and snappy.

Bucky walked away without a word and began to pick up picture frames one by one, to examine them, frowning at each one.

"Should I remember these?," he asked as he held up a photo of Sam around 12 with gangly limbs and a terrible haircut.

Sam groaned as he kicked his shoes off and Steve couldn't help but grin.

_You've only been back for a few hours and I haven't felt like really smiling in years until now._

Bucky's eyes lit up as if he recognized that smile but he did not return it, replaced the photo instead.

"No. You didn't know Sam until recently and I met him a few years ago."

 _We were running before the sun came up and I was drawn to him. Never felt like that toward another person aside from you. He makes me happy._ _So do you._

"How?," Bucky asked.

He stood awkwardly in the tiny living room; looking out of place with his rugged features and curious eyes.

"Met him in D.C. when I went for a run. He was the only other person stupid enough to be running before the sun came up," Steve smiled and turned to Sam as if to say _You know it's true._

" _You_ run?," Bucky was confused by this, cocked his head to the side as if he had heard wrong.

"I do, yeah."

Bucky scoffed.

"What?"

"Nothing...you never could before is all."

_What else do you remember? Tell me everything._

The letter felt like it was burning a hole in Steve's pocket -

_'She may be your compass and everything you've ever dreamed of but you...you are my goddamn compass'_

"Do you remember...," he began and immediately closed his mouth before he could finish the sentence.

Sam wandered off to the back of the house and Steve knew it must be so they could have privacy because God knows they'd earned it.

Bucky smirked -

_It's 1930 all over again and I'm crazy about you as much as I was then._

"I remember everything," he finished.

Steve froze.

"Everything?"

_Tell me you remember us? 'Cause I wanted you as much as you wanted me if not more and fuck, I couldn't live without you and I didn't._

"Yes."

"Are you okay? You look...pale."

It was so like Bucky to worry about _him_ instead of himself that Steve nearly cried once more.

"I'm...I'm fine," he stammered as he clutched the wall.

"Why don't you sit down?"

Bucky gestured to the couch and as always, Steve followed.

_That's what all of this is about. You. Always chasing after you our whole lives and thinking you didn't want me._

Bucky chose the loveseat across from him and ran his fingers through his hair - a gesture that Steve recalled with perfect clarity. The only time he'd broken this habit was when his hair was slicked back and he'd spent too much time on it to ruin it.

Steve took deep breaths and decided that 72 years was too long and he couldn't wait another minute. He carefully pulled out the letter, unfolded it and passed it to Bucky with a shaking hand.

_This is me. Steve Rogers. The kid you used to love...like that. Not Captain America 'cause you never cared for that guy._

Bucky's eyes widened as he recognized his own handwriting, recalled scratching out the letter the night before he'd fallen from the train. Steve, the other men (and they might as well be his brothers, he missed them something awful) and himself had gathered around a tiny fire and sang to keep their spirits up. Steve had given him the most beautiful gaze and his heart had shattered in his chest because men like Steve were not meant for men like himself. They were born to do great things and couldn't be hampered by a broken down Sgt who didn't have his head on right.

But these words? They were brutal painful honesty. He'd cried when he'd penned the letter - it was his way of giving Steve Rogers up because he no longer belonged to him alone. He never imagined that after Hydra had stripped him of everything he'd see it again and old feelings would come rushing to the surface. For that matter they'd showed themselves at the worse possible time; when his fist had connected with Steve's face and he'd felt cold hard fear and guilt in his gut.

His eyes catch on a certain line -

_'I gave you a vow what feels like ages ago - that I gave you everything I had and I'd do it again.'_

"I remember that day....," he whispered aloud.

Clothesline blowing in the wind, Steve's eyes filled with stubborn pride, pain and love for him, his shoulders relaxing when Bucky gave him that vow, recalled how Steve had moved into his place the very next day and he thought he'd died and gone to Heaven, touching Steve's shoulder and pouring his everything into that one moment.

Yes. That memory had made itself known on the helicarrier as Steve's body careened toward the earth & he'd felt an intense need to protect him though he couldn't explain it at the time. He knew now that it was caused by a lifetime of almost losing Steve to his poor health.

Steve sat stiffly on the couch and tensed his jaw -

_Which one??_

"Your mom had died and I...you moved in with me."

Steve nodded as Bucky re-read the letter.

_I could recite it to you out loud._

Sam rattled pots and pans around in the kitchen and took one look at Steve's face before he sighed and retreated to what Steve assumed to be, his childhood bedroom, and closed the door behind him.

"Is he alright?," Bucky asked and it was so very ridiculously _Bucky_ that Steve grinned.

"He's fine. He'll come out in a few hours. He likes to be alone."

_That's not entirely a lie. He gets in these moods sometimes when he thinks about Riley and closes himself off. We have that in common._

"About this..." Bucky holds up the letter and shakes it for emphasis.

Steve's mouth goes dry as he waits for Bucky to retract every word in it and prepares for the gut punch.

It does not come.

Bucky stares off to the left and Steve knows what that means - he does it every time he's feeling emotional.

"I meant it."

_Three words. You just turned my world upside down with three words._

"Did you...read the whole thing?"

_Maybe you missed the part about how every word was a love letter to me._

"Yes."

Bucky nods and stares at the wood paneling, curling his tongue against his lip as he always did when he was about to cry and couldn't hold it back.

"Bucky...I...," Steve began but he couldn't find the words.

_I have loved you...God. For as long as I've been alive. You. Its always been you and I swear to God if you'd told me this then I would've dropped everything for you. I only moved on because I never dreamed you felt the same and Peggy? Well she was you. _

"Don't."

Bucky got up and began to pace around the living room as if the walls were closing in on him.

_Don't push him too hard._

"Buck. You have to know that I felt the same way about you," he blurted out.

_Come on. Call me a liar, tell me you and I are more alike than we think. That this could never work out. Go ahead and rip my heart out because you can't do any worse than losing you for 72 years. I can take it._

Bucky took deep breaths in and out and moved to stare out the window.

Steve stood beside of him - _Like old times, you and me against the rest of the world._

"If you don't...," Steve began.

_If you don't want this, tell me now and I'll walk away forever if that's what you need._

"What Steve? Want you? Think about you? Write you fucking love letters and offer my heart on a damn platter so you can break it again?"

Bucky is shaking now, hands curled into fists at his side.

"Is that what you think?"

Bucky doesn't reply - he doesn't have to.

Steve takes a metal hand in his own and pulls at it as hard as he can until Bucky relaxes, tangles it with his own and they're both terrified. It's 2014 and they're standing in a house that neither of them are familiar with and things are so vastly different but they're here. _Together._ And Steve Rogers has been in love with Bucky Barnes for as long as he can remember but he's never been brave enough to do something about it.

He slowly raises a hand to Bucky's face to let him know he's going to touch him and it's going to be okay -  _I'd never hurt you. Not in a million years._

Bucky closes his eyes as Steve cups his face and edges closer to him - latches onto his waist and turns him until they're facing one another. 

_Look at me. It's there. It always has been and you knew. _

"Bucky...." it comes out as a hoarse whisper. 

Bucky's eyes are soft and teary when he meets Steve's gaze and they might as well be 19 and 20 again only this time no one is trying to hide. 

"I have always...always cared for you more than anyone." 

Bucky flinches and tries to move back -

_Fuck. I meant LOVE._

"Love," he spits out desperately.

_Don't slip away from me now._

"Love. More than anyone."

Bucky's mind is whirring in a million directions as he tries to make sense of what he's hearing.

"You love me? Like...a friend?"

Steve laughs and tugs him closer - one hand on the curve of his waist and another gently cupping the nape of his neck.

"I don't think friends want to...kiss one another," Steve confesses.

_70 years, Rogers. SEVENTY YEARS._

Bucky's eyes flicker from Steve's down to his lips and up again before his tongue darts out to lick his nervously.

It is enough.

Steve tilts his head to the side and tastes a mouth warm and soft against his own, feels a reverberating moan against them but Bucky isn't kissing back yet so Steve sucks on his bottom lip and traces it with his tongue, dips in and caresses Bucky's tongue with his own. With that Bucky pushes his entire body against Steve's and the scruff of his beard scratches delicate skin in the best of ways as he kisses back and it's nothing like Steve has ever experienced. It's as if Bucky has reached in and replaced his very soul - carved his name along its surface.

Bucky moans once more and bites Steve's bottom lip before sucking on it and jutting his hips against Steve's. Steve is dizzy with this love, consumed by it and is giving Bucky Barnes his everything and more.

_Want you. Need you. God I've fucking missed you, you don't even know how much._

It's at that moment that Sam walks in and gapes at them silently without moving. Steve doesn't notice at first, he's too busy getting to know every inch of Bucky's mouth & body. Bucky breaks off the kiss and Steve tries to pull him back but he takes his face in both hands and tilts it toward Sam. 

"I think....you know. The fridge is kinda bare so I'm going to get us some food, I'll um...I'll be back in a few hours." _  
_

He collects his keys and rushes out the door.

Steve can't help but laugh and Bucky joins in - it sounds as if he hasn't laughed or smiled in ages but it's genuine. Steve takes him by the hand and tugs him down on the couch. He does not protest.

It is 2014 when Steve Rogers answers Bucky Barnes' letter without saying a word.

**Author's Note:**

> the "well darling, at least we tried" is from a "six words" story on tumblr. credit to mantrabay for the quote. edit is mine. thank you for reading. this made me cry to write and I almost left it as a sad letter but I just couldn't.


End file.
